


Family, Friends, and Fainting

by missblueeyes63



Category: SEAL Team (TV)
Genre: Angst, Brotherhood, Drama, Gen, Hero Clay, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Older Brothers, Team as Family, Whump, Whump Clay, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 15:37:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17769512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missblueeyes63/pseuds/missblueeyes63
Summary: Home from Ecuador and recuperating Clay can't get into any trouble, right? Wrong! This is Clay we're talking about. An innocent outing escorting Stella to a faculty gala goes awry.





	1. Don't Join a Gunfight with a Knife

* * *

_**Clay's Apartment** _

"FREEZE RIGHT THERE, MISTER!"

Clay gripped the bureau three steps from his bed and turned his head towards the bathroom.  _Busted. Damn!_

"Where do you think you're going?" Stella finished pulling on her robe. She had not had an opportunity to shower in the last thirty-six hours and only left Clay's side for a ten-minute one, needing to wash away the grime.

"Thirsty."

"You have a glass of water on the nightstand. I put it there right before I went to shower."

"Wanted fruit juice." Clay observed the scowl on Stella's face and nearly flinched.

"March your handsome butt right back to bed, soldier."

"You think my ass is handsome?" Clay winked at her, trying to distract her from making him return to the friggin bed.

She withheld the smile which wanted to bloom.  _Yes, I do, but that is beside the point at the moment._  "Don't be changing the subject. I'm not interested in dealing with Jason's ranting if he finds out you are out of the freaking bed again."

"He won't."

"Won't what? Find out? Rant fireballs?" Stella firmly placed her hands on her hips.

"Both. I won't tell, and he won't yell. I'm sick of laying in bed. I'm not feeble," Clay groused. Ever since returning from Ecuador, Jason and the entire team hovered, fawning over him, restricting his every attempt to move, and forcing him to remain in the hospital for much longer than he wanted ... two full weeks.

He only arrived home forty-eight hours ago, and the team insisted on staying for the first eight hours. He appreciated the concern, but his place was too small to house him, Stella, five burly guys, and one dog. Besides, they were smothering him … something he had enough of.

Stella pursed her lips as she stared at her frustrating boyfriend. "He will, and you realize I'll be falsely accused of not taking proper care of you and become the target of his diatribe."

"No, you won't."

"And who do you think got lambasted when you attempted to walk unassisted up the friggin stairs when I brought you home?"

"Jason directed his fury at me." Clay's features screwed up recalling his feeling of freedom from the hospital dissipating under Jason's fanatic glare at the foot of the stairwell and his admonishment to use the elevator.

"Yeah, but what you didn't hear after you nodded off was the verbal flogging Jason gave me. He and your whole team flipped out on me. Evidently, they're still angry with me for allowing you to drive yourself to base the day of your night exercise."

Stella blew out a breath. "I don't understand them. You were well enough to go out firing guns and running all over the place with them that night, so why are they freaking out about you driving."

Fatigue from standing catching up with him, Clay shuffled towards the bed, sat, and reached out a hand to Stella. When she linked fingers with him, he pulled her to sit beside him. "I'm sorry they yelled at you. Me driving isn't your fault, and I'll set them straight. I'm still figuring out what it means to be part of this brotherhood, this family … feels strange to me still."

He leaned over to Stella and kissed her. "I'll talk to Jace and let him know in no uncertain terms if he or any of the guys unload on you again, I'll be setting them on their asses. Jason can light my ass on fire all he wants, that is his right being my boss, but you are off limits."

Stella smiled. Clay was a frogman through and through, but he was also just a man. She loved the fact he would stand up for her … not that she needed him to, but his offer to do so against his frog family warmed her heart. "Do you want apple, orange or grape?"

Having forgotten his original reason for getting out of bed, Clay grinned. "Surprise me." After Stella gave him a quick peck on the forehead, he fluffed his feather pillow and laid down.

Entering the bedroom five minutes later with a tall glass of apple juice and a ham sandwich for Clay, Stella stopped, and her lips turned up at the corners as she noted he had fallen back to sleep. She set both items on the bedside table and went back to the bathroom to brush out her hair before putting on her PJs.

Caring for Clay might become a full-time job. If she wanted to keep any semblance of her own desires and career intact, she might need to agree to offers extended by the Bravo men to watch over Clay when she needed to be away. Being raised as an only child, she needed to learn how to rely on sisters and brothers in this fiercely protective family.

Once dressed, she slipped in beside him, pulled the flannel sheet over them both, and let her hand carefully drape over his waist. Her fingers flittered over his abdomen and chest with a feather-light touch. Luckily, the burns on his front had not been deep, and although the skin was still pink, they would heal without a scar. The same couldn't be said for his two stab wounds and the burn on his back.

Stella closed her eyes, nuzzled close to him inhaling his masculine scent, happy to have him home alive and in one piece. Loving a man so different from the men in the world she grew up in proved to be challenging at times. As a strong, fiercely independent woman, loving an equally strong and independent man, they must learn from each other in order to build a solid foundation. Sometimes it was easy … other times difficult … but ultimately worth the effort.

* * *

_**Four Weeks Later – Faculty Gala at Farris Gallery** _

Stella linked her arm in Clay's as they strolled into the art gallery after leaving their winter jackets with the coatcheck girl just inside the front entrance. With a bright smile, she teased, "I'm glad your five fathers granted you permission to leave the apartment."

Clay chuckled. "Not fathers, brothers."

"They act more like fanatical fathers, controlling your every move. Do you have a curfew?" She hugged his forearm.

"As a matter of fact, Jason expects me to call him when we arrive home." Clay scanned the fancy gathering, and although dressed in a suit, by the unwelcome glances he received, he might as well be wearing combat boots and his field uniform.

"You gonna call? Wait don't bother answering … yes, you'll call." Stella smiled up at Clay, so handsome in his suit, but she would take him in whatever he wore … preferably in their bedroom in his birthday suit, scars and all.

"Better than having five fanatics busting down my door if I fail to report."

"True." Spotting Gordon, Stella steered them towards the group.

As Stella engaged with her friends, Clay stood and listened. Most discounted him as Stella's fad and believed she would wise up one day and kick him to the curb. Clay didn't bother to disabuse them of the fallacy of their thinking. He and Stella, though from different worlds, clicked.

When the discussion moved into esoteric babble, Clay leaned over and whispered, "I'll be back in a moment."

Stella peered up at him. "Where are you going?"

"Men's room."

"On the way back would you snag me a glass of white wine?"

"Sure. You want any hors-d'oeuvres?"

"I'm famished, some of the fried mushrooms, please."

"Alrighty." Clay moved off to find the nearest restroom. He eyed the marble statues, appreciating the effort the artist put into carving them.

After taking care of business, washing his hands at the sink, Clay noted when two men entered. They were guys he met at one of Stella's faculty parties. He didn't care for either of them, but he put up with them because they were Stella's friends.

"Hey, Clay, right?" Morgan stated as he stopped next to Stella's boyfriend.

"Yeah." Clay reached for a paper towel.

"Can't believe Stella brought you to this high-class affair. You stick out like a sore thumb." Frank never like the guy Stella chose to date and was not above letting him know how much he didn't fit.

"Guess it isn't so classy if you're here," Clay retorted.

"Shouldn't you be off killing innocents in some foreign country to fulfill the dictates of this fascist regime?" Frank flung back.

Any response was cut off by the sound of gunfire. Clay raced to the door to find out what was happening. Frightened, Frank and Morgan ran to cower in the stalls.

Crouching at the doorway, Clay scanned the main gallery, searching for Stella. His heart beat a rapid staccato until he found her in a group being herded into a corner. He counted five gunmen armed with assault rifles. Although calling 911 would be most people's first inclination, Clay hit Jason's contact after he retrieved his cell from his front pocket.

"Hey, Kid. You home already?"

"No. I'm at Farris Gallery. Five men carrying AK-47s entered and fired off several rounds. From my vantage point, I can't tell if anyone is dead or if there are more hostiles."

Jason stood and signaled to Ray as he put the phone on speaker. "Where exactly are you?"

"In the men's restroom on the first floor. Stella is out there. I want to go to her."

"Stay where you are. I assume you are unarmed?"

"Not quite. Got my pocket knife." Clay fingered his small knife.

"Don't join a gunfight with a knife. You call the police?"

"No, you came to mind first."

"Sit tight, Kid. We're coming. And Clay …"

"Yeah?"

"Don't do anything foolish. You just qualified for returning to active duty, and I don't want you on the injured reserve again."

"Copy." Clay inched back into the restroom allowing the door to close, fighting his desire to rush out there and protect Stella.


	2. Give Me Your Ties

_**Outside Farris Gallery** _

Jason, Ray, and Brock stood together behind the police line, all frustrated they could do nothing but observe. They had no authority to operate on home soil, and this fell to the local jurisdiction to handle.

Sonny, pulled from the strip joint he had been enjoying a few beers at before Jason's call, strode up to join them his hands shoved in his jacket pockets to ward off the cold of the freezing night. "What's the situation?"

"SWAT arrived and so did a negotiator. They are trying to contact those inside, but to no avail."

Trent jogged up to meet them, almost slipping on a frozen patch on the sidewalk. "The kid. He okay?"

"So far so good. He's still in the bathroom. Indicated no other shots fired since the initial rounds. He's antsy though. He can't stand Stella being out there without him." Jason raked a hand through his hair as he stomped his feet to keep them warm.

"Don't blame him. If it were Naima, yeah, I'd be chomping at the bit to go to her. And Jace, so would you if it was Alana." Ray met Jason's gaze and received a nod.

"SWAT is gearing up." Brock pointed to the group of seven men checking their weapons behind their armored vehicle.

Jason shouted, "Sergeant! I have information for you."

Sergeant James Fox turned and viewed the man who yelled, noting he waved to him. Leaving his men for a moment, he strode over through the slush lining the road. "Who are you?"

"Master Chief Hayes and one of my men is inside. He called and gave me details you will want to hear."

"Make it quick."

"He was in the latrine when the shots rang out. Two other friendlies are with him. Spenser spotted five hostiles with AK-47s but is unsure if there are more. They rounded up the attendees and put them in the far corner. I told him to stay put."

"Why didn't he call the police?"

"Training."

"What?" Fox's brows knitted together.

"Pounded into his head, I'm the first person he calls if the shit hits the fan. His name is Clay Spenser. You can call him if you need updated intel."

"Give me his number." Fox pulled out his phone and punched in the digits. Before hitting call, he asked, "Will his phone be in silent mode? I don't want to put him in danger."

"Yeah, the kid is smart. Would've been the second thing he did."

"Second?"

"First is to call me."

"Got it. Thanks." Fox hit send. And when it answered, he said, "This is Sergeant Fox, am I speaking with Clay Spenser?"

"Yes."

"Your master chief said you might be in a position to provide us with additional info." Fox moved back to his team.

Clay sighed.  _So they're out there … probably pissed off they can't do anything … just like me._  "Yeah, give me a moment to take another scan."

"I don't want you leaving your cover." Fox put it on speaker so the rest of his men could listen in.

"I now see eight men, three more than the five I spotted earlier. Appears they moved everyone, about forty people, to the south corner near the marble statues."

"Can you hear anything?"

"No one is talking. Their faces are all covered in white, plastic masks, but they are all wearing suits like the guests."

"Anything else you can tell me?"

Clay focused on two men who set a backpack on a table and unzipped it. "Crap they have a shitload of C-4." He watched for another moment. "They're handing it out to the others, and they appear to be taking it to various locations." Clay's gut seized when one man put a block of the moldable explosives near Stella. "They're placing some around the hostages."

"Thank you, Spencer. Let's keep this line open, and you can feed me any new developments."

"Fuck, someone is coming towards the bathrooms. I'll leave my phone on in my pocket, try to feed you what I can without giving it away."

"Copy."

* * *

_**Inside Farris Gallery – Bathroom** _

Clay barely slipped the phone into his breast pocket before the bathroom door slammed open. He managed to position himself behind a half wall out of sight hoping to get the drop on the man. Though Jason and the cop said stay, he couldn't. The armed man would find him anyway so a plan formed in his head.

He waited until the door closed and the man came close enough before he launched his attack. His kick sent the submachine gun skittering across the floor, and the hostile staggering back for a brief moment before reaching for his handgun.

Not giving him an opportunity to withdraw the pistol, Clay and the masked man engaged in hand-to-hand fighting. Clay realized he must be up against a well-trained male when his moves were countered. They exchanged several fast blows before they ended up on the floor. Ground fighting would favor Clay … he enjoyed taking Judo lessons beginning as a teen and his SEAL training took him to the next level.

Peeking out of their stalls, Morgan and Frank could only stare as the two men fought it out.

Clay managed to flip the assailant and get him into a choke hold. As the man struggled, Clay applied pressure and continued to maintain his hold when the male went limp. Pushing off the unconscious man, Clay got to his knees and peered up at the two cowards. "Thanks for the help," he said sarcastically before he yanked off the mask, removed the man's belt and blue tie, then began undoing his own red tie.

"You killed him," Morgan stated.

"Not dead. Down for the count." Clay unholstered the pistol and tucked it into his pants waist at the back. He stood and grabbed the shoulders of the insentient man, dragging him to handicap accessible stall. He positioned him with his back against the base and head near the tank. He pulled the arms up and round to the other side and secured the man's wrists with his red necktie.

"What are you doing?" Frank asked.

"What does it look like?" Clay turned to the men. "Give me your ties."

"Use his. Mine is French silk," Frank groused.

"I need his. Give it over, or I'll take it." Clay glared.

Morgan began undoing his. "Why do you need that guy's tie?"

"Cause I'm going out there." Clay took Morgan's tie, knelt, and bound the hostile's ankles then moved the legs towards the hands, a quite uncomfortable position for the man in a backward C and used the belt to hog-tie the inert man around the toilet. He wouldn't be going anywhere.

"You don't need mine. He's secured." Frank held off removing his tie.

Standing, Clay moved into Frank's personal space. "Tie. Now."

Frank gulped at the fiery glare, took a step back, running into the wall, and began taking off his fine tie unsure why Clay needed it.

Once he had the length of fabric, Clay unrolled a mass of toilet paper and shoved it into the restrained man's mouth, fastening the makeshift gag with Frank's tie. Rising he said, "Now he can't yell for his buddies."

Going to the sink, Clay raked his fingers through his curls to put them in some semblance of order, re-tucked his shirt, and put on the blue tie before pulling out his cell. "Fox?"

"What the hell is going on?" Sergeant Fox stated.

"One assailant secured. I'm going to put on his mask and go out there to gather you more intel."

"No. Too risky." Fox stared at the Farris building. Whoever planned this knocked out all cameras, so they were completely blind. He didn't like going in without understanding what his men would face. The negotiator failed to elicit any response from those inside, though he continued to try.

"With all due respect, sir, I'm trained for situations like this. You need to know what you're up against and frankly, I'm not leaving my girlfriend and the others out there unprotected right next to explosives. You don't want forty innocent people dead any more than I do."

"Will you blend in?"

"Yeah. This guy's suit and mine are both navy, we are both wearing white shirts, I took his tie, and we're about the same build.

"I don't like this, but at this point, I don't have much choice." Fox sighed.

"No, you don't. Tell my boss … ah never mind. I'll tell him myself when this is all over. I'm not gonna be able to hear you, but I'll feed you details."

"Understood. When and if we need to come in. At the first flashbang, you hit the floor, remove the mask, and you stay down. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal." Clay put the cell in his pocket again, picked up the rifle and peered at Frank and Morgan. "You stay here and out of sight."

"You're not really going out there?" Frank asked.

Clay pulled the mask over his face. "Yes."

When the door shut, Morgan turned to Frank. "I think we have him all wrong. We never gave him a fair shake."

Frank shrugged. "Still don't like him and all he stands for. If it weren't for men like him going off to play war in countries that don't want us there in the first place, the world wouldn't always be attacking us."

Morgan shook his head. "You will never recognize your faulty logic. A strong military protects us and maintains our freedom. Men like Clay put their lives on the line every day so we can sit here and speak our minds." When Frank only smirked, Morgan stopped wasting his breath. Some people would never understand the important role the military played in keeping America the Land of the Free.


	3. Nerves of Steel

_**Inside Farris Gallery – Main Room** _

Clay stopped at the end of the hall and surveyed the room. He noted many of the females appeared frazzled, a few crying. The men were not in much better shape. He smiled, glad the mask hid his face when he spied Stella. She was no fragile flower. She stood erect, fearlessly scowling at their captors.

Taking stock of the situation, he whispered, "Fifteen armed men in the main area. In one corner, five are guarding all the guests except for four older men who have been separated and are on their knees with a man standing behind them with a handgun pointed at their heads. Appears they plan to execute them."

He recognized one of them to be one of Stella's advisors. A guy he actually liked. Flanagan enjoyed knocking back a stout ale in a pub and didn't come across as pretentious as most of the faculty … like Gordon.

Moving forward, he headed straight for the C-4 stuck to the wall near Stella. Luckily, the other masked men appeared to be engaged and didn't notice his movements. Approaching the explosive, he let his eyes flick to Stella.

Stella let out a small gasp but quickly stifled it. She would recognize Clay's blue eyes anywhere.  _What is he doing?_

Clay realized she recognized him and gave a slight shake of his head.  _Please don't say anything, don't give me away._  His gaze returned to the C-4. Relief flooded through him. He reached for his pocket knife and flipped it open. After glancing around to make sure he wouldn't be observed, he severed the detonator lead and made it appear as if it was still armed.

Stella's eyes widened at Clay's actions.  _Oh my God, he is risking himself to save us. If they catch him, they'll kill him like they did the security guard at the front desk._  Then she caught his whisper and realized he must be communicating with someone outside.

"One explosive defused. Moving to the next one." Clay turned his gaze on Stella, their eyes meeting and communicating more than words. He took the chance to speak a little louder so she could hear him, "At the first bang drop to the floor, curl up, and don't move. Pass that along to the others."

He pivoted and started for the next block of C-4. His mind trying to determine who these men were and what they were after. They appeared well organized, and the explosives were military grade. As he skirted the ones holding Flanagan and the other three at gunpoint Clay overheard two of the armed attackers speaking French.

Halting at the next device, he listened as he disarmed it. He only picked up fragments of what they said but enough he filled in the rest, figuring out their plan. Moving again, Clay whispered, "This is a heist. They're planning to blow the place to cover their thefts. They are dressed like everyone so they can ditch their masks and blend in when things go to hell. You got about fifteen minutes to get in here before they set off the fireworks."

* * *

_**Outside Farris Gallery** _

Fox paced in the frigid weather as snow began to fall again and he addressed his team. "Facing fifteen armed subjects is a suicide scenario. No way we can take them into custody without fatalities. We don't have enough time to call up another team. Anyone got suggestions?"

The team rookie waited for a moment, hoping someone would have a better idea than him. Sarge likely wouldn't go for it, but when all the guys shook their heads, Felix Correa spoke up, "Sarge, this is somewhat unorthodox, but I think I have a solution."

"What?" Fox peered at his rookie, a former green team SEAL who joined the force after not making through to the draft.

"Well, I know Master Chief Hayes, not personally, never worked with him, but by reputation. He runs one of the top tier SEAL teams. I recognize the men standing with him. They're his men."

Turning to view the men, Fox considered the possibility.  _It wouldn't be out of bounds … although not law enforcement, they would be well versed in tactics necessary. They only lack protective gear and weapons._

"Sarge, the backup tactical gear is still in the truck from our last exercise," Felix added.

"Grab it. He has a man inside, so he might be willing to help." Fox strode over to Hayes.

Jason spotted the sergeant moving towards him as did the others. They all became quiet as Fox stopped.

"Master Chief Hayes I have a favor to ask. My rookie tells me you and your men are SEALs. We have a critical situation which doesn't permit me time to bring in another SWAT team. We have weapons and Kevlar vests available. We could use your help. According to Spenser, fifteen armed men plan to use explosions to cover a heist in about ten minutes. It would be foolhardy to go in with only seven men and most likely end up with fatalities… both my men and civilians. Are you willing to help?"

"Fuck yeah!" Sonny exclaimed. He had been frustrated standing here doing nothing, worrying about the kid … and Stella.

Jason nodded. "What do you need us to do?"

"Come with me. We can plan tactics while you suit up."

Ray lifted the police tape, and all the guys ducked under, glad to finally be about to do something other than standing here.

* * *

_**Inside Farris Gallery – Main Room** _

So far, luck had been on his side, and none of the hostiles picked up on his activities. Clay only had one more explosive to disarm. He strolled towards its location and glanced again at the four men on their knees. Clay realized they were being used to control the rest of the attendees. No one would attempt to run if one of their friends or colleagues would be executed.

Approaching the food table, he spotted the fried mushrooms Stella had wanted. Although at first, he kicked himself for not being right beside her when things went down, he was now glad he'd been in the restroom. A fortunate fluke which worked to everyone's advantage.

Reaching the last explosive Clay pulled out his knife again, flicked it open and set to work.

"Fabien, que fais-tu?" Jean-Luc Fouquet yelled. The last-minute addition to their group when Pierre came down with the flu appeared to be somewhat of a feckless explosives expert who tended to keep quiet. When Fabien didn't respond, Fouquet picked up a fish from the table and flung it, whacking Fabien in the back of the head.

Clay whipped around and spotted a fish on the floor.  _What the hell … flying fish?_

"Fabien, pourquoi tu joues avec les bombes?" Fouquet shouted.

_Oh shit. Guess I'm Fabien. Wants to know why I'm fiddling with the bombs. Will he recognize I'm not him if I speak?_  Taking a chance, Clay mumbled he was only making sure they were armed properly, "S'assurer juste qu'ils sont bien armés."

Fouquet nodded, turned and headed to the back were several others were gathering the items they came for. Getting kicked off the Toronto Police Force, thanks to charges of firing without cause coupled with his previous disciplinary actions due to his run-in with Daniel Broderick, pissed him off.

After being fired, he hooked up with several felons and other former officers who had been discharged years before for their part in teaching Broderick you don't fink on your fellow officers to IA. The life of crime was much more lucrative than being a constable, and their skills gave them an advantage, understanding the police tactics which would be followed.

Fouquet decided to flee Canada, branching out to the U.S. when things became too hot after he received a visit from three men, a black-haired man, an amber-eyed man, and one as fierce as an enraged highland warrior with a scar across his face. They let him know if he ever so much as frowned in Blondie's direction again he would forfeit his life.

He asked who Blondie was and the hazel eyes of the raven-haired man erupted in flames as he said Constable Dan Broderick. He believed them and decided leaving was in his best interest. Besides, here they were unknown and not in any system. Not that they planned on getting caught.

Clay blew out a relieved breath when the man walked away.  _Must've said the right thing. Fate is being kind today._  "Final explosive disarmed," he whispered giving Fox details, knowing the SWAT team would take things from here. Clay began to make his way towards Stella.

* * *

_**Outside Farris Gallery** _

Geared up and ready for entry, Bravo team would come in from the rear, while SWAT's Alpha Team entered from the front. The two-pronged approach would split the focus of the hostiles, giving them an advantage.

As Sonny adjusted his grip on the MP5, he said, "Our fair-haired boy better hit the floor, or I'm gonna beat his ass."

"You'll have to stand in line, Jason will have first shot," Trent quipped.

"Quit flapping your jaws and focus. Tangos will look like the guests, and we don't want any friendly fire fatalities," Ray scolded.

The men shut up and prepared for the go signal from Fox.

* * *

_**Inside Farris Gallery – Main Room** _

Halfway to Stella, flashbangs erupted, and Clay spied the man who threw the fish at him grabbing Stella to use her as a shield. Instead of going to the floor, he ran flat-out in her direction. Since he couldn't take the chance of hitting Stella, he had the foresight to drop the AK-47 as he started to rip off the mask … he didn't want to be mistaken for one of the criminals.

Bravo team entered, taking out active shooters firing at them. All understood cops worked under different protocols and they had been given a brief run down. As some fled, they pursued them to take them alive.

Alpha team stayed in formation as they moved inside, breaking off into two groups. As Felix followed his sergeant, he spotted one subject running for the hostages, taking off his mask and dropping his weapon, hoping to fit in, another one grabbed a female and yanked her towards him as he fired at him.

Using his sniper skills, he aimed and fired off a round in the split-second before the running felon went flying at the one holding the woman. A cry rent the air as someone yelled, "Stella down!" Both men hit the ground. Felix couldn't believe his eyes as the one on top struggled with the still masked man on the bottom.

Felix didn't have time to consider more as a volley of gunfire aimed in his direction began. He, sarge, and his teammate dove for cover behind a marble statue.

Fouquet stared into a face he didn't recognize.  _This isn't Fabien._  He registered the explosions didn't go off as planned when the front door was breached. He attempted to point his handgun at the man.

Clay grasped the barrel of the pistol, struggling to move it off him. He and the man rolled over and over as he fought to gain control. On the fifth roll, the gun went off.

Stella screamed when Clay's body draped over the man who tried to seize her. "Clay … noooo!" On her knees, staying low, she crawled to him as more flashes erupted around her. In a fog, feeling like her world fractured into a million pieces, believing she watched Clay's final moment of life, she fumbled to pull him to her and roll him over.

Her first glimpse of the man beneath took her breath away … lifeless brown eyes stared up at her. Flicking her gaze to Clay, she found his blue orbs peering up at her. Stella's heart fluttered. "You're alive."

"Yeah," Clay breathed out as the gunfire ceased. After a glance around, noting the SWAT team had a handle on things, he sat up, then pushed up, getting his feet under him. Pivoting, he clasped Stella's hand and drew her up with him. He framed her face with his hands, staring into her frightened eyes. "Thought I wouldn't get to you in time."

Her knees going weak at the thought of Clay almost dying, Stella clung to his jacket and moved her head to his shoulder as she became faint with emotions washing through her. His strong arms encircled her, holding her up.

A surge of fury came forth, and Stella pulled back. Her voice came out fierce, "Why did you do something so foolhardy? You could've been shot!" She slapped his upper arm. And when her hand came away bloody, her knees gave out. She would've sunk to the floor if not for Clay holding her. "You were shot."

"Nah, it's that guy's blood. Come on." Clay put his arm around Stella's waist and guided her over to the cop who was now near the other hostages. Many of the women appeared to have fainted, and Gordon too, which almost made Clay laugh. Noting the sergeant stripes, he said, "Sergeant Fox?"

Fox turned at the familiar voice. "Spenser?"

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you for your help. This would've been a fiasco without you defusing the bombs. Got some help from your team too." Fox nodded towards Bravo team who were leading several cuffed men to the front to hand off to officers flooding into the building.

"Sir, the man over there," Clay pointed to the dead man, "we fought for his gun, and it went off. He's dead. I expect you will need an after-action report from me."

"Yes." Noting the blood on the woman's hand, he said, "Ma'am are you injured?"

"No only transfer from …" her head turned to the man lying in a pool of blood.

"If it is alright, I'd like to take Stella out of here," Clay understood the aftereffects of adrenaline would start to make Stella shaky, and he wanted her closer to EMS in case she became shocky.

"Fine. Stay close and when we're ready I'll find you."


	4. "I Didn't Faint ... I Passed Out!

_**Outside Farris Gallery** _

Riding the downward crest of his own adrenaline rush, Clay maneuvered Stella outside and to the first EMS gurney. "Sit and let them check you over." Stella opened her mouth to protest, and Clay said, "Humor me, please. Let me return the favor and take care of you for once."

Stella nodded and sat. She began shivering and appreciated the blanket Clay put over her shoulders before he stepped back to allow the paramedics to take her vitals.

"Sir, do you need to be checked out?" a medic asked.

"No, I'm fine."

Several minutes later, an officer hurried over and stopped when he approached. "Are you Spenser?"

"Yes."

"Come with me, please. The sergeant is ready to talk with you."

As Stella started to get off the gurney, Clay shook his head. "Stay here. I won't be long. I promise."

"Okay." Stella reached out a hand to him. When he grasped it, she pulled him close and whispered, "Thank you for saving me."

Clay grinned and kissed her forehead. "Be back in a moment." He followed the cop to where Fox stood outside near a snowbank.

"Spenser, this is Officer Hanson, he will take your statement, then you will be free to go."

Clay reached behind to his waist and withdrew the firearm. "You'll be wanting this. I took it off the man I tied up in the bathroom." Hanson pulled out an evidence bag and Clay dropped the pistol in as he asked, "My team?"

Fox replied, "They'll write out their statements and debrief with us at the station. Good work in there. No civilian or police fatalities when we breached because of you. Thanks again."

"Glad I could help."

Hanson said, "Let's start with your full name."

"Clayton Spenser, but I prefer Clay."

"Please start at the beginning and tell me what occurred."

Clay began to tell him, but the officer was interrupted by a colleague. Halting to wait for their conversation to end, Clay started to feel the shakes that came with the end of his adrenaline surge. He tried to control the tremors, but the freezing weather didn't help much since he had not retrieved his overcoat from the coatroom inside.

As Hanson's dialog dragged on, Clay leaned against the brick building, suddenly fatigued … more so than a normal drop in his epinephrine. He lifted an arm to wave at Jason and the others as they walked past, and his arm felt like a five-ton weight.

Becoming dizzy as aches in his body from his two fights started letting themselves be known, he wanted to sit down. This was not a normal come-down from stress. His eyes sought out Trent … the one man who seemed to always know what his physical state meant.

Trent stopped so suddenly that Sonny ran into the back of him.

"Forget how to walk?" Sonny grumbled.

"The kid. Something isn't right." Trent changed directions. His pace quickened as Clay's gaze fixated on him.

"What the hell?" Sonny joined Trent, and when Clay began to fall, his hand flailing out to grasp something to hold him up, Sonny called over his shoulder, "Jace! Clay's down."

As Clay fell, his eyes closed and his world folded in on itself.

Jason turned from speaking with Fox, and his eyes landed on Clay as the kid face-planted in the snowbank. He was running in the next instant along with Ray and Brock following Trent and Sonny.

Hanson shouted, "I need help over here!"

Trent pushed the officer out of the way, dropping to his knees and turned Clay to get his face out of the snow. He tapped his cheeks several times until Clay's eyes fluttered open. "Hey, Kid, what happened?"

"Um … unsure … lightheaded."

Sonny blew out a breath. "Pretty boy fainted."

Clay frowned. "Prefer passed out."

"Not like the kid," Jason said his worry ratcheting up a notch.

"What's going on over here?" Fox inquired as he joined the group, followed by his rookie.

"Give me some light," Trent said as his he wiped the wetness off his hand from turning Clay over.

Hanson flicked on his flashlight.

"Shit he's bleeding," Ray stated.

"Not mine, it belongs to the guy I took a flying leap at to save Stella," Clay mumbled as he fought to stay with them.

"Like hell it's not!" Ray pointed to the droplets of red in the snow.

"Fuck, his whole jacket sleeve is soaked. Help me get the damned thing off him."

Jason and Brock sat Clay up as Trent and Sonny pulled his navy jacket from him. The white shirt sleeve underneath was now crimson.

"How the hell didn't you realize you were shot?" Brock asked.

"Adrenaline," Trent responded for Clay as the kid's head lolled.

"Who shot him is what I want to know. Clay would know if one of the felons fired at him," Jason stated.

Felix swallowed a lump.  _Oh shit._  His voice faltered as he confessed, "I think it was me." Four angry men surrounded him.  _I'm a dead man. Hayes is notorious for protecting his men._

"Not the time guys. Get a damned paramedic over here. He's lost a significant amount of blood." Trent ripped open the sleeve revealing the wound.

Jason glared at Felix and jabbed his finger in the man's chest. "We're not done."

Sonny raced for one of the EMS rigs yelling for medics, which alerted Stella. She hopped off the gurney and began running to where Sonny had come from. She pushed through the guys, making her way to Clay's side. She glimpsed his bloody arm. "You said you weren't shot. It wasn't your blood."

Clay tried to downplay how bad he felt. "Funny thing … um, adrenaline can—"

"Shut up and save your breath." Stella grasped one of his hands as her other hand moved to brush the wet curls from his forehead.

"Yes, ma'am," Clay attempted fake levity, but his eyes drifted shut as he faded out again.

As the medics arrived with their gear, Trent jumped right in with them as the others stood back and observed. The three lifted Clay onto the stretcher out of the freezing snow, covered him in a warm blanket, put an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, started an IV, and wrapped his wound in a pressure bandaged before rushing him off to a waiting ambulance. Stella and Trent went with them.

Jason turned his flaming eyes back on Felix. "When did you shoot him?"

Felix maintained his ground, but a flicker of fear raced through him as he faced a furious Jason Hayes. "A split-second decision. I thought he was one of the subjects."

Fox stepped in when he noticed news cameras pointed in their direction. "We will not discuss this in public. Back at the station will be soon enough." Turning to the incident officer, he asked, "Did you get Spenser's statement?"

"No, he fainted—"

"Passed out," Sonny overrode the man.

Eyeing the fuming man, Hanson changed his words. "As I was saying he passed out before we began."

Fox nodded and blew out a frustrated breath not looking forward to the next hour or so in the room with his men and Hayes' men. If not handled carefully, things might devolve into fisticuffs because Hayes was pissed Felix shot Clay and Felix's teammates would defend him as fiercely as Hayes' would Clay. "We must debrief before you I can release you."

"You let Trent go," Sonny argued.

Jason calmed his fury. "We'll go. But if Trent calls and things go south for Spenser, we're leaving."

"Agreed." Fox grabbed Felix's forearm and pushed him forward in front of him creating a barrier between his rookie and the men who wanted to tear Felix a new one.

* * *

_**Hospital – ER Waiting Room** _

Stella prowled the waiting room as her emotions flew from being furious to freaked-out. She had never seen so much blood, and she kicked herself for not noticing Clay … the man she loved … was bleeding all the while he took care of her. Stella murmured, "What does this say about me? Why didn't I notice?"

"The kid didn't even notice, so cut yourself some slack," Trent said as he held out a paper cup of what might pass as coffee.

"How come he didn't?" She took the cup and sipped, her mouth twisting into disgust, wondering if he gave her foul coffee on purpose.

Trent chuckled at her face. "Yeah, coffee sucks. Had better in Afghanistan, and that is saying a lot." He tossed his full cup into the wastebasket. "As for why he didn't, adrenaline is a factor, but so is his concern for you. He was so focused on ensuring you were alright that his own well-being flew out the window."

"You really think that is what happened?" Stella forced herself to drink the caffeine she needed to stay awake.

"Yeah, kid's done it in the field several times when he was focused on saving our assess." Trent slumped into a seat.

Stella sat next to him. "Like when?"

"Can't tell you much detail. Once we were stuck in the snow, won't say where, and he maintained overwatch up a fir tree, freezing his ass off. Thought he might lose a finger or two from frostbite, but once he warmed up, his skin pinked up too.

"Another time, me, Sonny, and Ray got pinned in a foxhole. He climbed a rickety framework to get high and take out the tangos. When the whole structure came down, and he fell about twenty feet, the kid ran with us all the way to exfil. After we jumped in the helo, I noticed a huge fragment of wood in his thigh, Clay never once said anything. When I pointed it out, he said, 'No wonder I couldn't run as fast.' So, I'm not surprised he didn't notice he was shot tonight."

"Does he get hurt a lot more often than I know about?" Stella gave up on the foul-tasting beverage.

Trent shrugged. "You know the significant ones, things that sideline him. Better you're not aware of everything. Clay wouldn't want you to worry over the minor stuff."

"Minor? Falling from twenty feet, running with a wood fragment impaling him, and getting frostbite are considered minor?" She stared with her mouth agape, flabbergasted and flummoxed by Trent's thinking … heck Clay's thinking.

Shrugging again, Trent patted Stella's shoulder. "In the grand scheme of things, yeah, they're minor when compared to what could be the outcome of some of the FUBAR missions we end up on."

"Not making me feel any better, Trent." Stella frowned at him as all kinds of terrible images of what might happen to Clay filled her mind.

"Sorry. If it makes you feel better, we take care of him, and he takes care of us. He is our brother."

"You all act more like fathers," Stella let slip.

Trent chuckled. "I guess we do at that. But given what an asshole his real father is … he can use all the family, brothers or fathers, he can get. And you. We like you. You stepped up and took damned fine care of him after we returned from Ecuador.

"Clay confided to me you wouldn't let him get out of bed for a week once he was released from the hospital. You threatened to call Jason to keep him there. Thanks. We owe you for putting your life on hold to help him."

Stella shook her head. "My life isn't on hold. Clay is part of my life. The most important part. Yeah, I love what I do, and I will get my doctorate, but Clay is my first priority … I love him more."

The ER door opening stopped further comments as Clay's doctor approached them. They both stood.

"Happy to report the GSW is a through and through in the fleshy part of the arm and missed anything vital. He lost consciousness due to the adrenaline drop and the shock to his system. We want to monitor him for a few hours to ensure he remains stable then he can go home. He'll be good as new in a few weeks. If you want to visit him, I'll take you back."

Trent grinned. "You go, Stella. I need to phone Jason to inform him of Clay's status before I join you."

Stella hurried after the doctor. Trent's grin increased. Relationships were hard to maintain in their line of work, but he had high hopes Clay and Stella would have a life-long one. He could've called Jason later, but he wanted to give the lovebirds a few moments alone before all of Bravo team descended upon the kid.

* * *

_**Three Weeks Later – Training Field** _

Clay made it up the hill first, smoking the rest of the team. His face-splitting grin greeted each one as they joined him. "Five cases of beer coming my way," he gloated.

"I'm getting you the hoppiest, most skanky, foreign beer I can find," Sonny retorted.

Clay chuckled, happy to return to active duty as of today. Last Friday, seven days ago, had been an act in futility to get Jason to allow him to return even though the doc cleared him. All Jason replied to his repeated requests was go have fun with your girlfriend for the next week.

So he did. They took a trip to Stella's friend Morgan's cabin. Clay was still surprised Morgan offered to allow them to use it and Gordon and Flanagan offered to cover all her classes for a week. They enjoyed lazy days of curling up in front of a roaring fire in the log cabin. Quite romantic Stella claimed. He and Stella spent the nights in bed engaged in passionate lovemaking. Both returned yesterday fresh and ready to tackle the future.

Jason grinned, glad to have the team whole again. He took to heart Alana's suggestion to allow Clay and Stella time to solidify their relationship. Alana said the young lovers would need a strong link if they were to survive the rigors of SEAL family life. A brief time of being free and easy would allow each to draw upon pleasant memories when the crap hit the fan … as it inevitably would.

"So whatever happened with Felix?" Trent asked.

Ray said, "When we debriefed, it became clear the situation was frenetic, and Felix made a decision in the heat of the moment believing he was protecting hostages. He didn't receive any sort of reprimand. He was actually aiming at Fouquet who had Stella, and when Clay jumped Fouquet, the bullet hit Clay instead."

"So the friendly fire my fault," Clay said waiting for the ax to fall for disobeying Jason's order to stay in the bathroom.

Jason shook his head. "No, we lay this at the feet of Fouquet and his men. Both you and Felix were protecting people."

"But you told me to stay put," Clay eyed Jason, floored he didn't blame him.

"You did what was necessary. Forty-three people, you included, are alive because you had the balls to act when others cowered. I'll never firebrand your ass for taking calculated risks … and that is an example of one. You used your brains and your training."

Clay couldn't help the smile which flourished at the compliment.

Sonny shoved Clay and teased, "Don't be letting that make your head swell, pretty boy. You might faint again."

"I didn't faint, I passed out," Clay retorted.

"Same thing."

Clay launched himself at Sonny taking his teammate to the ground as he said, "Is not, fainting is girly, and I'm not."

"You got goldie locks hair … so, yeah, you're girly."

Clay got Sonny in a choke hold. "So you're gonna tell people you lost to a girl?"

As the two brothers wrestled, the others looked on with grins. All understood it was nothing more than friendly fighting … brothers hassling one another … family fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too bad Stella bailed on Clay before he left for Mexico. I thought her character was a strong intelligent woman (though I don't share many of her views), and Clay needed one to keep up with him. I liked that they came from different worlds and were trying to make things work as they learned about each other's world. Anyway ... this one wasn't mission related, but I hope you still enjoyed. Let me know what you think.


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